


Incomplete

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After leaving the reader 2 years ago, Clint has a change of heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incomplete

Clint tried to forget her, to go on like he never knew her, but she wasn’t about to let him go. She held on tight, the memory of her hair spread around her head like a halo, shining in the rising sun, how she would smell fresh out of the shower, like baby powder and lavender, how she looked in his faded t-shirts, teasing him with glimpses of her ass cheeks when she stood on tiptoe, how she would laugh -really laugh- when his fingers would brush over the spot on her side… fuck, he tried so hard. **  
**

For years Clint worked with the Avengers, doing anything and everything in his power to save the world and the people on it. That was actually part of why he left Y/N, he knew how she would stay up all night worrying about him. She’d tell him she was fine, but her eyes were bloodshot and she always looked like she lost a couple of pounds. It was killing him, how what he chose to do for a living affected her. He loved her with his entire being, but he couldn’t do it to her anymore, so he left. She cried and begged for him to stay. 

Two years later, Clint was in Sokovia, and Pietro Maximoff was dead. Fuck… he was just a kid, it wasn’t supposed to end this way. Clint laid there on the carrier, his knuckles brushing against Pietro’s blood-stained chest, and all he could think about was Y/N. With his previous decision changed and his heart thundering in his chest, Clint left the compound without telling anyone where he was going.

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself as he knocked on the door. It was late and there he was, wearing dusty and bloody black leather, holding a bow, and an arrowless quiver strapped to his back. He could only imagine what he looked like to anyone that might wander into the hallway. “Didn’t even change-” The door opened slowly, spilling light into a dark apartment. Her pupils contracted at the intrusion of the bright light behind him.

“Clint?” she breathed, sleep and confusion thick on her tongue.

The sight of her always made him feel like his stomach was hoarding a bunch of butterflies. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but… c- can I come in?”

After a long moment, Y/N opened the door and stood back, allowing him entry to an apartment he hadn’t set foot in in over two years; it felt the same and yet so different at the same time. The first thing that hit him like a punch to the gut was the way it smelled, so much like her, it made his throat tighten with regret.

“What do you want, Clint?” she asked with arms crossed over her belly.

His bow and quiver landed with an almost silent _slap_ of leather on leather, the chair he used to sit in while he watched football -fuck, he thought she would have gotten rid of that- before turning to face her. Even though only the moon lit the room, he knew she could see the tears that filled his eyes.

She took a step closer, yet stayed out of reach. “What happened? Oh God, is it Nat?”

Clint swiped a hand over his face. “No, Nat’s… she’s fine.” Natasha was the opposite of fine, what with Bruce taking off after they finally admitted their feelings for each other.

Y/N huffed in relief. “Talk to me, tell me what’s going on.”

“I… we lost someone today and… Y/N, he was just a kid. I shoulda done more-,” the next words got caught in his throat as he started to cry.

Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sure that whatever you did was the best you could do,” her breath was hot on the back of his neck.

He didn’t wrap his arms around her straight away, but when he did, he held on with all that he had. Calloused fingers and leather archery finger guards dug into her t-shirt as he buried his face in her shoulder and neck, his shoulders bowing as if he bore a heavy weight. Which, if he was being honest, he blamed himself for Pietro’s death.

She scraped her nails through his hair and over his leather-clad back, whispered words of encouragement into his ear, and pressed a kiss to his temple. He sucked in a breath at the touch of her lips on his skin, the lips he never stopped dreaming about, and to feel them on him again, well, it took his breath away.

Swallowing hard, she tipped her head back. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

Standing there, not an inch between their bodies, their breath mingling between them, holding the other like they haven’t in years, Clint drew his bottom lip between his teeth. “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if I hadn’t left?”

She scoffed, but didn’t pull away. “Only every fucking day, Clint. Do you?”

“I made the biggest damn mistake of my life that day. If I could take it back, I would. Jesus… I haven’t been the same. I’m… Y/N, I’m not the same without you. I feel empty and… incomplete.”

She reached up and grazed the back of her knuckles over his cheek and jaw, his eyes fluttering closed at the gentle touch. “I’ve missed you.” Nothing else mattered, not the words on the tip of Clint’s tongue, or the mourning for Pietro, or the possibility of Y/N getting hurt…

Clint blew out a breath that shook his shoulders and, with his eyes closed, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve waited two years to hear you say that.”

Grabbing his face, Y/N kissed him sweetly before leaning back to get a good look at him. The wrinkles in his forehead and around his eyes were deeper than before, more defined, grey hairs started to mix nicely with the dark blonde of his sideburns, but what made her heart ache was the deep sadness in his eyes. The last time she saw him in person, he was walking out the door, telling her that he had no choice but to leave, that it was for her own safety, that being with him was too dangerous, but that was a different kind of pain than what she saw now.

“Clint, I know Fury is probably wondering where you are, but… you’re more than welcome to stay.” Light pink colored her cheeks as her nails continued to scrape through the short hairs on the back of his neck.

“You sure?” The last thing he wanted was to steer Y/N in a direction she wasn’t ready for.

She kissed him again, but it was nothing like the sweet flutter of lips of the last kiss. No, this one was intense and definitive. She filled his senses with cinnamon toothpaste, baby powder, vanilla, and something that he couldn’t put a finger on until she whispered his name harshly against his mouth, running her thumb over his kiss-swollen bottom lip; home. It didn’t matter where they lived or what happened, she was his home.


End file.
